


And so they do.

by mahixa



Series: dea disaster husbands [2]
Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, One Shot, Short & Sweet, and kissing, and there's death mentioned but nothing graphic, but I was a bit moody today so I thought I will create something nice, but like, expect fluff, hopefully it will make someone smile a little, just so you know, like that's my goal, narcos stuff, so it turns out to be quite soft, that's also my first fic I publish here, they swear, you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-18 14:14:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28619358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahixa/pseuds/mahixa
Summary: “You are some real pain in the ass, you know that, Murphy?” he mutters, because apparently it is what you say to the most stunning guy you have ever seen. To that brave, ridiculous at times, short-tempered, tender, intelligent, fucking desirable guy.“Oh yeah?” Steve comes closer to Javier and towers over him, and Javier is sure that finding these damn keys is pretty much impossible right now.“Yeah,” he says, looking up at Steve, and then at his lips.He licks his own.“Tell me I’m pain in the ass again, I dare you.” Steve whispers, but he doesn’t seem angry. He seems flirtatious.“Shut up, idiot,” Javier comes closer to Steve and can smell alcohol and cigarettes.And then it happens. Steve leans down and gently, barely brushes his lips over Javier’s.“Make. Me.” Steve murmurs so quietly it’s barely audible, and as he speaks he touches Javier’s lips with his own.
Relationships: Steve Murphy/Javier Peña
Series: dea disaster husbands [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2101533
Comments: 24
Kudos: 71





	And so they do.

It’s in the way Steve smiles, Javier decides.

He was perfectly fine alone, _thank you very much_. He was perfectly content with his previous partner who didn’t ask any questions and did as he was told. This bottle washer kind of a dude. _Bring this, take that._ He was quiet, and Javier liked that he didn’t have to explain himself to him. That guy was a bit lazy when he worked, yes, and he was not the brightest person around, but at least he didn’t question Javier’s behaviours. He didn’t distract him.

And Steve does exactly that. He distracts.

Javier has never seen anyone as conscientious, meticulous and industrious as Steve. He keeps his documents in order, cleans his cup every time before he goes for another coffee and he is the first to connect the dots. Sometimes he does is faster than Javier, this whole quick deduction thing. And at first that used to irritate Javier, but now, he thinks – it is nice to come to the office and see documents and photos all prepared, neatly organised and ready to be read, with important notes and circles around information.

It is nice to come to the office and find Steve, sitting on a table next to documents, eating an apple and smiling at Javier. He smiles but he doesn’t wait for Javier’s praise or applause. He never waits like a dog, ready to be told he is a good boy. He bites his apple, smiles, stands up, pats Javier’s shoulder and leaves without a word.

And that, _oh_ , that really drives Javier _mad_ for some reason. This, and the fact that later that same day Steve brings a small plant to the office. That really makes Javier irritated. _Steve and his ideas._ And it’s been only a month since he got here.

“Murphy,” he states, as if the tone of his voice could translate this unspoken question of _why the fuck would we need a plant in a place like this._

But Steve understands him, he seems to always do it, and answers without Javier having to say anything:

“It’s because you smoke like a chimney. We need some air cleaner.”

“It really doesn’t work that-”

“Just shut up and appreciate its little green leaves.” Steve smiles and sits by his desk.

So Javier looks and appreciates, but not the plant.

It all comes to Javier with time. Little things. Steve has long fingers, and he likes to keep his hands occupied. He chews on his pencil very often and tilts his head to the left when he listens to something important. He sneezes very loudly and then apologises. He likes to listen to music, but like, _he really likes it_. Prince, the Who, Whitesnake and different artists that Javier had no idea who they were before. Now he knows. And he kinda likes it too, though he never says that. Steve touches his wrists and neck when he tries to self-soothe, and Javier finds that quite mesmerizing. Steve, stupid Steve with his stupid blonde hair. And yes, it’s weird that nobody in Colombia, as dangerous and full of sicarios as it is, hasn’t decided yet that it’s finally a good time to kill Steve for being so painfully, visibly white. But Steve just doesn’t care and goes to every place he wants. He smiles and tries his best with that ugly Spanish accent of his, and throws that messed up, incorrect words into his sentences. Javier doesn’t try to correct him, even when Steve orders food for them. Instead, he stares at the way Steve smiles and blushes when he notices he has made a mistake when he spoke, because a cute waitress chuckles and asks: is he sure that he _really_ wants to order a moose.

Javier hates to admit that but he kinda likes it. To see Steve like that, almost shy but yet still confident enough not to run away from a restaurant and try to order food again. With passing months he gets better with the language, though. And he knows what Javier would like to order – and what to order him depending on Javier’s mood. Steve observes and comes with conclusions. It’s just the way he exists. He does it at work and outside of it, as Javier can clearly see.

“Una cerveza para mí y whisky para este hombre, por favor.”

When a waiter comes back with beer for Steve and whiskey for Javier, he smiles at the blonde, because the waiter has also brought whipped cream on a waffle. And again, Steve doesn’t wait for Javier’s appreciation or praise. He doesn’t wait for “ _how did you know this dessert would cheer me up, even I didn’t know I needed it_ ” or “ _how did you know today I would prefer whiskey without tonic and no ice_ ”. Steve is too busy eating his lunch and telling Javier about some bad movie he has recently seen.

And Javier thinks – _oh._

_That’s nice._

It gets worse when Connie leaves. Steve needs time to come back to his usual self, and Javier needs time to admit that he misses that Steve. He wishes, more than anything, that Connie would come back. And he also wants her to stay in the States. _How fucked up is this?_

But nothing lasts forever, and Steve starts smiling again. He sits at his desk and looks at the small plant he bought years ago.

“I forgot to water it for all those weeks,” he whispers.

Javier doesn’t look up at him, and continues with writing down some information.

“And it’s not dead.”

Javier stops writing.

“You kept watering it, didn’t you.”

And maybe Javier did. So what? He didn’t do that for Steve, that’s for sure. He just didn’t want to stand up from his desk and throw the plant away, because that would be time-consuming. And since he already drinks water like a normal human being, it was not a problem to save some of it for the plant.

“Gracias, Javi.”

A Spanish word. Steve’s deep voice. _Fuck_ , he thinks.

He tells himself that he drinks too much coffee because his heart has been behaving weird recently.

Months pass by. Someone tells Javier it’s Christmas and it seems sudden and weird and out of place. As if in Colombia there should be no Christmas, with all these deaths and Escobar situation going on. He completely forgot about it, and to be honest, he didn’t really care to remember. It’s another day of work and he’s not in the mood for celebration. Escobar has escaped once again, and there’s nothing to be happy about. Almost everyone in the office has already gone home, and Steve has not been around Javier today. It’s difficult to say if he is gone too, or not. Tiredness takes over Javier, as he closes his eyes and rubs them with his palms. He doesn’t pay attention to the things around him, and just like that - by accident, he pushes a cup from the desk with his elbow. The man doesn’t hear any noise, though. When he opens his eyes, Steve is next to him, with the cup in his hands.

“I was trying to sneak up on you, Peña, but you had to throw poor cups on the floor, huh? Always a drama queen,” he jokes, as he smirks and slowly blinks.

He leans over Javier’s desk and puts the cup on its place, face close to his friend's.

“Merry Christmas, Javi.”

“Merry Christmas, Murphy, you asshole,” Javier says, because apparently this is what you say to nice men rescuing precious cups from being broken.

Steve smiles like an asshole he is, and comes back to his own desk.

“Aren’t you going home?” Javier asks, collecting documents to add them to a growing pile.

“Aren’t you?” Steve shrugs and puts a cigarette between his lips.

Javier thinks that the plant has more work to do now, since Steve smokes almost as much as Javier. This work changes people.

Things change, sure - but Steve still looks pretty. He is some fucking pretty guy, Javier thinks.

“You should go for a drink with me,” the blonde states, as if it was a totally normal thing to say.

Javier is glad he is in a middle of his attempt to find something in one of the drawers, so he can hide the changing colours of his cheeks.

“Why would you want to ruin your day even more?” Javier asks and pretends to look for something for a little longer, just so he doesn’t have to look at Steve’s blue eyes.

“Call me a masochist. Or maybe I just like spending time with you. Didn’t that possibility occur to you, huh, Peña? Your misery makes me feel better, dickhead.”

Javier laughs at that and finally looks at Steve. His eyes are soft and so is his smile, and for a short second Javier allows himself to think that Steve really wants to spend time with him on Christmas. He allows himself to think that Steve would do that even if Connie was around, and he allows himself to think, for just a short, short, sweet second, that Steve would actually choose Javier over other people. He regrets that thought almost as soon as it appears. It will cost him a lot of alone-sad-drinking later.

“Come on,” Steve insists.

“Well, okay. It’s not like we have anyone else to spend Christmas with, I guess,” Javier pretends to be disappointed by the option to spend this evening like that.

For a short, short second he allows himself to think that Steve’s eyes look like he is hurt at the thought that Javier would pick anyone over him if he had the option. Steve clears his throat and stands up, looking at the other man.

“Ready, then?”

***

It’s in the way Javier looks at him, Steve thinks.

He looks at Steve like nobody has ever done before, and it’s almost intimidating. Almost, because it never becomes creepy or feels intrusive. It brings comfort, actually, knowing that Javier is always there, observing Steve’s reactions and being ready to intervene.

“He’s seen enough,” Javier tells Carillo, and his voice is sharp like a knife.

Steve doesn’t want to acknowledge his trembling hands, as he picks up a gun from a dead, young woman. A woman who tried to kill them a few minutes ago.

Only when he looks at Javier and sees that Javier is already looking at him, _already there_ , taking away the bloody gun from him and leading him out of the building, taking him to their car and driving him home, he feels safe and calm again.

“Drink this,” he offers Steve a drink, and it’s interesting how Javier shows tenderness. It’s never “ _please_ ” and “ _would you_ ”. It seems cold and distanced, but it really is not. Javier’s hands, gently rubbing Steve’s back when he vomits, his firm grip when he helps him to stand up, his “ _take this_ ” and “ _sit down_ ”.

The thing is, Javier seems almost awkward when he asks Steve how he feels. And it’s never “ _how are you feeling_ ” kind of a question. It’s always very specific. “ _Have you eaten today_ ” or “ _how many hours did you sleep_ ” or “ _do you want me to drive you home?_ ” kind of a thing. _Oh Javier,_ Javier with his dark eyes that sparkle with an old mischief, and that makes Steve think what was he like when he was just a teenager. It makes Steve think if they would be friends back then. If Javier would like him. _Does he like me now?_

He doesn’t ask, and Javier doesn’t say. He doesn’t speak a lot, in general. But he _listens._ Steve knows Javier listens. One time Steve mentions and complains that his favourite the Who cassette has broken down, and when he comes to work two days later, he finds a brand new one on his desk. When he asks Javier _what the hell is this_ and _what shop did he get that from_ , Javier just shakes his head and says:

“So you would finally shut up about it.”

Javier doesn’t look like a person who would share his life story with anyone, but when Steve asks, he answers. Yes, he looks a bit shocked and reluctant at first, but then he rubs the back of his neck and sighs, and there Steve is, listening about Javier’s grandparents, his dog, his first girlfriend, and the first time he killed a man. And the truth is, Javier is a better guy than he portrays himself to be. Steve observes every little thing about him and he notices how much his partner cares about children and women. How he protects his informants and how he treats animals. And he can prank people too. He does it quite often, actually, at the office. He never pranks Steve, though, and that makes Steve feel like a stupid teenage boy who doesn’t get the attention he deserves. And he never hears that Javier is impressed by Steve’s work. He just comes to the office, sees what Steve has prepared, and goes back to work. And it’s not like Steve waits like a dog who wants to hear he is a good boy. Connie praises and compliments him all the time. And it's nice. And he appreciates this. He really does. He compliments her as well, because she's amazing. She really is. The "getting compliments" part is difficult and feels empty. Not "giving compliments" - this he can do. Especially if someone deserves them, like Connie. It's just... hearing them from other people feels… not as important. It feels automatic. Out of habit. “ _You did great_ ” and “ _good job_ ” from them is nice, of course, he can’t deny it. But oh, how he _craves_ to hear these words from the man who seems not to notice. _How fucked up is that?_

“Leave him out of this,” Javier states to some CIA agent, who threats Steve with jail.

He puts protective hand on Steve’s shoulder and Steve can swear it almost burns him through the shirt, and he doesn’t know why. He hates to admit that Javier being protective does things to him, because he likes to prove again and again that _he_ can take care of things. He can handle stuff. But when he feels trapped, Javier is there. And he never says that something is Steve’s fault.

“Hey, Murphy,” he welcomes Steve in the office on that one rainy morning, but when he sees how wet Steve is, his eyes widen.

He clears his throat and disappears for a moment. When he comes back, he carries a small towel and a new shirt in his hand.

“How the fuck did you get-” Steve starts but can’t finish, with a towel tossed directly at his face.

“Do me a favour and change,” the man insists, and it’s the only time he hears Javier adding: “ _please_ ”.

Javier avoids looking at him for the rest of the day and finishes work very early. He never finishes work this early.

“Can I go with you to-” Steve starts but Javier doesn’t listen, as he runs up the stairs and disappears from the office. “I guess no.”

When Connie leaves, everything feels numb. Everyone feels distanced. Even Javier. He is there, he’s always there, but he doesn’t ask how Steve feels. Again, he's back with his specific questions, and he asks about food or the amount of alcohol Steve drinks. He doesn’t say that he worries, but Steve allows himself to think that Javier cares. For a short, short second he allows himself to think that Javier thinks about Steve after work. He allows himself to think that he would like to take care of Steve, the way he always does, but maybe in a different way too. He curses at himself and knows it will cost him some alone-sad-drinking later. And then something happens.

“Hey, um,” Javier coughs slightly to make his voice louder, because somehow he sounded very quiet when he spoke. “Would you like, um, I don’t know, talk.”

“We talk all the time, Javi.”

Steve states the obvious and Javier looks as if he is physically struggling with something.

“No but like, you know.”

“I don’t? What are you talking about, man?”

Javier puts a cigarette between his lips and sighs, looking at Steve. And then he speaks, but in Spanish, and it feels like he's tired.

“Ojalá pudiera contarte más. Ojalá entendieras que quiero ayudarte.”

“Asshole, you know I don’t know Spanish that well!” Steve laughs and stands up from his desk. “Well, thanks for nothing, Javi.”

“My pleasure,” he smirks and comes back to work.

But Steve _understood_ that. He hides in the toilet and tries to calm his breath, because damn. _He understood that._

_I wish I could tell you more. I wish you would understand I want to help you._

They don’t talk for the rest of the day.

And so it’s Christmas. And so Steve asks. Here goes nothing. It’s not like he hasn’t asked Javier to join him for a drink before, but today is different. Today it’s Christmas and today feels more personal. He dares to say that anyway.

“You should go for a drink with me."

***

Hours later, when they come back from some small pub and stop themselves in front of Javier’s flat, drunk and smiling and relaxed, Javier doesn’t remember the last time he felt like that. It’s been months, probably. Maybe even years.

“So,” Steve blinks, and it looks private, intimate and almost coy.

“So,” Javier repeats, as he searches for the keys.

He can swear it was not as hot as it is now five minutes ago. And he already feels mad at himself for allowing this feeling of… _it’s not a fucking date, Peña. So stop being nervous. It’s just Steve._

“You are some real pain in the ass, you know that, Murphy?” he mutters, because apparently it is what you say to the most stunning guy you have ever seen.

To that brave, ridiculous at times, short-tempered, tender, intelligent, fucking desirable guy.

“Oh yeah?” Steve comes closer to Javier and towers over him, and Javier is sure that finding these damn keys is pretty much impossible right now.

“Yeah,” he says, looking up at Steve, and then at his lips.

He licks his own.

“Tell me I’m pain in the ass again, I _dare_ you.” Steve whispers, but he doesn’t seem angry.

He seems _flirtatious_.

“Shut up, idiot,” Javier comes closer to him and can smell alcohol and cigarettes. And _Steve._

And then it happens. Steve leans down and gently, barely brushes his lips over Javier’s.

“Make. Me.” Steve murmurs so quietly it’s barely audible, and as he speaks he touches Javier’s lips with his own.

Javier can’t breathe. He doesn’t think. Because _Steve is here, right here,_ so close to him, he is afraid that if he doesn’t act, Steve will vanish into thin air. So he acts.

He closes the gap between them and when he does, he is sure he has never felt more alive. Steve’s lips are cold at first, but they warm up under Javier’s touch, and it’s gentle, a bit unsure and messy, but very soon they work it out. They always do. Like they do with everything. And when they do it _this_ time, it’s unimaginable. Suddenly, Steve pushes Javier towards the door to his flat, and kisses him harder, and it’s passionate, and it feels like water after drought, and as soon as Javier slides his tongue inside Steve’s mouth, he is sure he’s learning to breathe again, to _be_ again.

“Keys-” Javier gasps when he manages to break the kiss, but Steve doesn’t stop.

He moves lower and finds Javier’s neck, attacking it with more kissing and _Jesus Christ, sucking,_ and Javier almost hates how easy it is for him to moan, and he cannot stop himself from it. When was the last time he did that in front of anyone? He can’t remember. He can’t open his eyes and he is pretty sure he is just experiencing some kind of a miracle; that Steve, that blonde idiot with his stupid smile and cheesy jokes _is_ his miracle. He finally finds the keys and opens the door, and it's rushed and clumsy, and Steve’s hands are everywhere on him, grabbing and pulling and touching, and then they stop kissing.

They look at each other, gasping for air, but they are still in this embrace, this safe place of their arms, this warm coat of their touch.

“Javi,” Steve whispers, and rubs Javier’s nose with his own, closing his eyes. “Javi…”

“I’m here, Steve...” he breathes, and kisses Steve’s chin, his cheeks, his eyelids and his forehead.

Steve just lets him do it, and he whimpers at this soft, tender act.

“I like the way you… you are,” Javier says without thinking, but maybe that’s what he needs to do right now. “You and your work… work ethic”.

Steve chuckles and kisses Javier’s neck, slowly working on undressing the man from his clothes. He looks at Javier and can’t believe his eyes. _How wonderful he looks in that light? So damn wonderful._

“My work ethic, you say?”

“Yes,” Javier smiles too, and this is ridiculous, this whole confession, but he keeps going anyway. “And your stupid plant. And you… ah, fuck, Steve…” He moans when Steve’s tongue finds his earlobe and when his teeth softly nip at it.

And when they lay there on Javier’s bed, forty minutes later, Steve feels like flying. He holds Javier’s body close to him, and Javier rests his head on Steve’s naked chest. Connie would never lay naked with him, always insisting on dressing up as soon as they were done. For Javier, the whole cuddling idea is something out of this world. He never does it with anyone. Or… never did. _I guess things change when that blonde is involved,_ he thinks to himself. And smiles.

“You know,” Javier says, voice hoarse and so deep it does things to Steve again. “I never let anyone in here.”

Steve says nothing and just kisses Javier’s head.

“Let’s… stay like this for a moment.” Javier breathes into Steve’s body, hugging him closer.

And so they do.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first fic here, and my only hope is to make someone smile with it :) I hope you'll like this short story! I love Pedro. And Boyd is amazing too. We're all here to appreciate these idiots in love, aren't we?  
> come and say hi to me on tumblr if you want: mahixa


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